Obito looked at the invitation in his hands for a long time, trying to sort out the surprisingly conflicting emotions that rose up in him at the announcement. He knew a little something about love that had spent far too long in waiting, after all, but in his own case there’d been no living collateral.
He realized he had come to care for Hinata and Sakura in the intervening years. He’d come to care for their children.
He supposed he’d always seen, instinctively, that Naruto and Sasuke had been living their lives caught in one another’s gravitational pulls. One did not move without somehow bending to the influence of the other. Naruto felt loudly, bled his considerable heart out onto his sleeve because he knew no other way. Sasuke had been far more subtle in his infatuation, but not so subtle that Obito would have missed it. Even as adults, as married men, their gazes met with that same silent understanding Obito saw daily in Kakashi. If he still believed in fate or destiny, he’d have considered this a fine example. There was an element of inevitability about this union, after all.
Then there was the matter of family. The marriage would bring Naruto into Obito’s own quite decisively, and there was no way to stifle the stab of old guilt that twisted in his chest. He didn’t deserve to be connected to Uzumaki Naruto in that way. Minato-sensei and Kushina-san would have been so ecstatic, he knew, to see their son so fulfilled.
Obito felt a warm hand rest on the back of his neck then--a subtle, grounding pressure that instantly caused his anxiety to fade. He turned just slightly, and caught the soft grey regard of a single familiar eye. Perfect understanding, as always. He relaxed into that touch.
Kakashi would be there. Of course he would. And Obito would be there also, at his side where he belonged.
